Opinion pieces, travel articles, places and people; lots of poetry; commentary on current events and history and whatever else shows up on the radar. Articles have been numbered (since Sept. 2004). Go n-eiri an t-adh leat.

Saturday, August 20, 2005

203. memory lane (and the truth don't come easy)

Blissed out on "esra" under the rooftop canopy of the Gulhane Hotel ; around the corner from Yeners, a few minutes from the Pudding Shop, a couple more to the Blue Mosque, in Constantinople/Istanbul -- well, it seemed like a good idea.

Six weeks later, after the usual hitchhiking grief, and a dash across the bridge on the Turkish border (a small matter of a smuggled car) I was picking up my payoff in Germany from stony-eyed parents whose son I had rescued from a 4-year sentence with a false passport: 500 dollars cash.

Business is business: we aim to please.

So then of a sudden there I was back in harsh and chilly London Town (in all senses of those lean unlovely words) broke, unhappy, unloved, for all my shining altruistic puppydog personality. So what can you do? Sail for Iceland.

I didnae want to get drunk on the train to Scotland, but with the four wild kilties on leave, it was sup from the bottle or face certain death; so staggering, dry-retching, I departed the port of Leith on the SS Something, thrown together with seriously peculiar passengers including perhaps the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.

No, she wouldn't. Glorious & golden. Damn.

We passed the new volcanic island (popped up, steaming, out of the sea) and docked at darkened Reykjavik; aurora borealis, but cold as a bastard, so I headed for the local Sally Ann among Christians and visiting Eskimos who were being run over, decimated, by the sparse but speedy passing traffic.

Sitting on the dock of the baybut not for long --80 mph winds could blow you awayin an instant: your survival timein that green frozen water (so they say)was one minute twenty-five seconds.

We used to watch the local fishermen,blind drunk, rejoining their trawlers,with the policemen lined upwith boat hooks and nets, waiting,and not for long, anticipating,drunken nose dives into the harbour:

families with kids (they'd even bringsandwiches, it was a spectator thing)would raise a cheer and clap and shoutwhen the cops would fish some poor fecker out.

Strange country, but you had to love it,love it or shove it ....

jeez, there were times: forty belowday after day, but there were no days,only pale glimmers of twilightbetween the long hours of darkness.

"Yeg vil vinna!"the only Icelandic I ever learned,("I want work!"), daily, dailytalking to the trawler skippersone weary ship after another.You're out of luck,get away to fuck,

because the fish were just not running,worst catch in a decade,the daily round was tiring,the locals were not hiring,and there was nothing else to hope for,there was nothing else to do,as the cold and the darknessand depression settled in.

You could actually die here --in a way it was kind of funny:of all the options in the great wide world,to die ... in Iceland?

Close enough, I had long left the Sally Annand moved into a canning factory(deserted, the fish were not running)which was heated, thank God, by free volcanoes,along with two Brits, another Irish guy,and we were eking out a living

by creative shoplifting in local stores(the money was long gone)when we became a target for young girls,drunk and horny, not exactly whores,who rolled in after the discos closedand snuggled beside us looking for love:

a strange world, but what does it matter?starving to death, sweet heaven above,an absence of food but sex on a platter.

The local boys got wind of these ops,were afraid to fight and called in the cops,so one night - O God, not again! - we're all getting laidwhen the cops burst in on a 4 am raid("give me ten more seconds ... aaaahhhh!!")and lined us up for a passport inspection.

Starvation does wonders for the male erection(they don't show THAT on your passportand being nineteen sure don't hurt, my friend)but all good things, the pleasureswe all enjoy (this laughing charming starving boy)soon ... come .. to ... an ... end.

A whacking great big East German trawlersailed in and saved us(and this is the truth I'm telling you);I met Wolfgang down by the harbour,half-pickled,and he so tickled

to "sprechen sie deutsch"after days with the locals(grinning yokels)that he dragged me "home" for a slap-up feed,everything I could wish or need,and after a silent rather dreary view

of the obligatory propaganda film(I could hardly resist it,when the captain insisted)we put that nonsense behind usand became good friends.

Food, food, food, like old times past!!(sex is grand but it just doesn't last)and me so laden down with suppliesthat the homeboys couldn't believe their eyes:Heil ... who is he? ... Honecker!!We were brought back to the land of the living,

in the nick of time, but still in bad with the fuzz,(the girls had wanted to meet us outside,yeah, thanks but no thanks, too cold for a ride)and not just becausethere are other things in this life,a lot of other things in life

So we went to a discowith the lead-ass freaking Commiesand had a great time: the best craic of all (I swear this is true)was to leave a drink on the tablepale yellow pernod type stuffafter a quiet trip to the loo

(yeah, well, figure that out)

then lurk behind a nearby pillarand wait for the local lady killerto swoop down and lap it up:gulp, gulp, gulp and sup.

Yum-yum.

I got out of the bloody place(I'm writing today, I'm still alive)by stowing away on a British boatthat came in for repairs,could barely float,but that was the least of my worries.

I was going mad,going crazy and bad(darkness and cold, cold and darkness,I was ready to kill to get out).

then a drooling yellow-fanged creaturepointed his two-fingered hand(with fishermen this is a common feature)and said, "Oi'll work ye watch by watch,fifteen hours a fookin day!" - "OK --that's grand by me" , sez I,

I was burning to get away.

Ah, England! thou sceptred isle,thou gem of the ocean, jewel of the sea,I never never thought I'd be so happy to see you!